


Paralanguage

by Void_Home



Series: Mate has many meanings, you know. [2]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, qpp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Void_Home/pseuds/Void_Home
Summary: Finally, Steven sighs deeply and raises his eyes. "I think I'm in love." The words taste odd on his lips. He's still not sure of it, either.
Relationships: Strangled/Glitchy
Series: Mate has many meanings, you know. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1220288
Kudos: 2





	Paralanguage

His knuckles rap on the door.  
"Sir?"  
For a second, Steven hopes Slender is asleep. It _is_ 3 am. But after a moment, when Steven had just been getting cold feet, Slender's voice replies crisply. "Come in."  
So he does. He can feel the head of the manor's nonexistent eyes rove over his body. He had reset. His eyes had no bags under them. His colors were right. His hair was brushed free of knots and straight as a board. Steven hesitates at the door, fingers curling absently in a familiar motion- a single tuft of hair moves out of place- before he clears his throat and approaches. Sits in the chair across from Slender and looks down. He rests his hands in his lap, playing with his nails, avoidant of the topic, but knowing he shouldn't waste Slender's time.  
Finally, Steven sighs deeply and raises his eyes. "I think I'm in love." The words taste odd on his lips. He's still not sure of it, either. It wasn't what those stupid romance novels said it would feel like. It wasn't what other pastas had said it was like. It wasn't even like what he thought it would be. But it's more than friendship. It's more than brotherhood. Every time he thought of him he...

There isn't a reply from Slender. He just sits there, slowly steepling his fingers. Was Steven wrong? The boy shuffles in his seat and looks back down at his hands. Finds himself thinking of how the other held them so tightly when they'd met, scared Steven would vanish if he looked away. Finds himself thinking of how _right_ it had felt.

"Is it the Glitched one?"

Was it that obvious?

Steven bites his lip before nodding slightly. "Yea. Glitchy. He's... it feels right. It's not love like... like the others say. Or even like books say... but I think it's still love." He trips over his words and cringes a bit at how he must sound. Like a child. ~~_Wasn't he a child when this all began?_~~ It doesn't matter, though. He knows it must be it, he must have found his mate. He just didn't know what to do about it.

Slender takes in Steven with careful attention. It wasn't Strangled right now, the personality, the appearance? Strangled had said it was rare. He thought he could only be Steven when his game was reset. But Steven sits across from him in the chair with all his worries on his face. And to think, that boy he'd brought back was the cause. He'd seen just like the others had how Strangled changed when he brought Red back from the game he'd been stuck in. The boy had been his polar opposite in some ways-some easier to see than others- and Strangled had caved to his desires more than he'd _ever_ caved to Silver's. Slender could remember the afternoon he'd caught the two sitting at the kitchen island. He'd been ready to shoo them out when he'd really taken in the scene.

* * *

_Strangled's eyes are distant. Focused on some point on the kitchen wall but seeing far beyond it while his fingers trace empty patterns on the tabletop. The expression on his face can't quite be called a smile, but it's the closest Slender had ever seen on Strangled's face. Red, or Glitchy as the others had taken to calling him, is sitting behind him, slowly brushing out his hair with a hairbrush he'd brought with from their game. Slender thinks this is the calmest he'd seen the other. Red had been more skittish than Silver had after he recovered. Something about not believing this could be real. But right now, he seems at peace. Until his eyes pass over Slender and the boy tenses up. Eyebrows draw in, and expression turns nervous. He knew the rules, after all—no one in the kitchen outside of mealtime._

_Red starts to pull his brush back, ready to bolt when Slender shakes his head. He wasn't upset. They weren't hurting anything, and he'd hate to ruin a pleasant moment like this. Waves a hand to resume brushing Strangled's hair before turning and going. He could get coffee in a few hours. As he vanishes around the corner to the stairs, Red starts brushing Strangled's hair again._

* * *

Thinking back on these just makes him think about other instances. Like the first time they'd fought. Strangled still had a scar from that, actually. One wrist would probably always hold the lines of whatever attack had nearly broken--cut off?-- his hand. Slender still didn't know what had happened. By the time he'd gotten down the stairs, Red had deftly wrapped Strangled's wrist and stemmed the blood flow. It would heal fine, and both refused to talk about what happened. Slender's eyes linger on Steven's left wrist, where that scar persisted. Two perfect straight lines encircling the boy's wrist, a more damning sign than his own words. They were mates, yes. Only a mate could leave a scar.

"So, what are you going to do about it, Steven?"

That didn't seem to be what Steven had been hoping for. His expression pinches and he looks down at his hands again. He doesn't know what he's going to do. He doesn't want to do half of what he was _supposed_ to want to do with a partner anyway. Steven curls his fingers a bit and another tuft of hair goes awry on his head. "I don't know. I don't want to... _kiss_ him. Or like, any of that other shit we're supposed to do when we find our mates. BEN thinks it's cause we're stuck as kids, not teens or adults. We haven't 'developed' like the rest. I think it's a load of ponyta shit. But..."

If Slender could move his face to express his displeasure, he would have. But his face is impassive and he watches the boy shift uncomfortably in his seat, wringing his hands. Energy spent, he seems to wait for Slender's dictate. He's not sure what he should give him. Congratulations? Instructions? Tell him to go to bed? It _is_ nearly 4 am.

The sigh he lets out seems to startle Steven. "You care about him, is that not enough? There are many kinds of _love,_ Steven; just as the term Soulmate does not focus solely on copulation. Maybe someday you will grow into it. Maybe you will not, and you will love Red as you do now, forever." Slender takes his hands apart and rubs what would be the bridge of his nose, if he had one. Turns to look at the clock properly before saying the next bit.

"Go back to bed, Steven. You shouldn't be trying to get a headstart on those bags under your eyes."

* * *

Steven had almost gotten to sleep when he hears it. Three distinct knocks on his bedroom door. An annoyed grunt escapes him before he rolls over, wondering if he could tell the knockee to go away. But the knocks resume, just three before trailing off into silence. He knows who it is, of course. Knows he couldn't _really_ deny him. "Come in."

Red trips over nothing coming in, eyes flicking to follow something only he could see as he rights himself. He crosses the room, stepping around the console left out, before patting at the bed a bit. Unlike him, Steven's eyes didn't glow in the dark, so Red couldn't quite pinpoint where his head was until he got close enough to touch his face and then mutter a soft apology. Steven stares at him for a minute, just taking the boy in before lifting the blanket, letting him climb under and curl up against his side.

Steven waits several minutes before slowly threading his fingers through Red's hair, idly combing it with his fingers before they both drift off to unconsciousness. Only one thought passes through his skull.

Maybe he could live with this.

**Author's Note:**

> par·a·lan·guage  
> /ˈparəˌlaNGɡwij/  
> noun  
> the nonlexical component of communication by speech, for example; intonation, pitch and speed of speaking, hesitation noises, gesture, and facial expression.


End file.
